now retired, Mary Ellen said, but it was she who'd alerted authorities to Dorothea Johansson and had her sent to prison in the early eighties for victimizing elderly tenants.
Judy and Beth stared at Mary Ellen, flabbergasted.
What was she talking about? Was she suggesting that softhearted Dorothea Puente—caretaker of stray cats and unwanted souls—could be this awful Johansson character? It seemed ludicrous!
Much as she liked and respected Mary Ellen, Judy just couldn't fathom what she was getting at. She cleared her throat and ventured diplomatically, "Well, this really doesn't sound at all like Dorothea Puente, you know. Um, what did Johansson look like?"
Mary Ellen Howard and Polly Spring glanced at each other and gave it their best. When they'd finished, it was hard to imagine anyone less like Dorothea Puente than the woman they described: over two hundred pounds, given to wearing muumuus, dark hair piled atop her head. This Johansson woman hardly resembled small, snowy-haired Dorothea Puente.
"And, well, about how old would she be?" Judy asked.
Howard and Spring figured that Johansson would be in her late fifties.
"Then she can't be Dorothea Puente," Judy said, shaking her head. "She's at least seventy!"
The two veteran social workers persisted. They still believed that Puente could be Dorothea Johansson. And, they insisted, the woman was dangerous . She'd been convicted of some sort of crime, she’d been in prison. Mary Ellen Howard went on to explain that Sacramento magazine had even done an article about how Mildred Ballenger had put a stop to Johansson's evil deeds.
"I'd like to read that," Judy said, and Mary Ellen volunteered to get them a copy.
Still, Judy and Beth remained skeptical. How could Puente and Johansson be one and the same? Dorothea Puente's tenants thought the world of her. Some even said her boardinghouse was the best place they'd ever stayed. And Dorothea's results with Bert were so remarkable, so unequivocally positive, that Judy and Beth could only believe that Polly Spring and Mary Ellen Howard were sadly confused.
Judy shrugged. "This just doesn't mesh with our personal observations."
"That's right," Beth concurred. "It's amazing how well Bert Montoya has been doing since he moved there. He's improved in every way because Dorothea is such a good care provider."
"Well, if I were you," Spring advised in her throaty voice, "I wouldn't want my client staying in that woman's house."
"So where would you suggest Bert stay instead?" Judy wanted to know.
Spring replied, "The Gate House," [fictitious name], referring to a local room-and-board operation.
This hit a sour note with Judy and Beth. The manager of this establishment had neglected one tenant to the point of abuse, compelling them to file a report with Sacramento's ombudsman for senior care. They could hardly imagine a worse placement for Bert.
They were polite enough to stifle a scoff, but given their firsthand experiences, the VOA partners just couldn't take Spring and Howard's suspicions seriously. Still, since their colleagues were so obviously concerned, they promised not to place any more clients in Puente's boardinghouse and to ask Dorothea a few questions.
But Spring and Howard weren't about to stop with just one conversation with a couple of VOA employees. They were so profoundly distressed by the idea that Dorothea Johansson might be on the loose again that they decided to push the limits of their respective bureaucracies. And for an unlucky few, the unfolding dance of accusation and acquiescence played out like a Kafkaesque plot.
By chance, Polly Spring shortly learned that Peggy Nickerson was also making placements at Dorothea Puente's boardinghouse. "She's crazy as a hoot!" she exclaimed to Nickerson. "I remember something about her being in trouble with the law. If I were you, I'd avoid Puente in the future."
Nickerson, who didn't have the highest opinion of Polly Spring to begin with, reacted with
Judy and Beth stared at Mary Ellen, flabbergasted.
What was she talking about? Was she suggesting that softhearted Dorothea Puente—caretaker of stray cats and unwanted souls—could be this awful Johansson character? It seemed ludicrous!
Much as she liked and respected Mary Ellen, Judy just couldn't fathom what she was getting at. She cleared her throat and ventured diplomatically, "Well, this really doesn't sound at all like Dorothea Puente, you know. Um, what did Johansson look like?"
Mary Ellen Howard and Polly Spring glanced at each other and gave it their best. When they'd finished, it was hard to imagine anyone less like Dorothea Puente than the woman they described: over two hundred pounds, given to wearing muumuus, dark hair piled atop her head. This Johansson woman hardly resembled small, snowy-haired Dorothea Puente.
"And, well, about how old would she be?" Judy asked.
Howard and Spring figured that Johansson would be in her late fifties.
"Then she can't be Dorothea Puente," Judy said, shaking her head. "She's at least seventy!"
The two veteran social workers persisted. They still believed that Puente could be Dorothea Johansson. And, they insisted, the woman was dangerous . She'd been convicted of some sort of crime, she’d been in prison. Mary Ellen Howard went on to explain that Sacramento magazine had even done an article about how Mildred Ballenger had put a stop to Johansson's evil deeds.
"I'd like to read that," Judy said, and Mary Ellen volunteered to get them a copy.
Still, Judy and Beth remained skeptical. How could Puente and Johansson be one and the same? Dorothea Puente's tenants thought the world of her. Some even said her boardinghouse was the best place they'd ever stayed. And Dorothea's results with Bert were so remarkable, so unequivocally positive, that Judy and Beth could only believe that Polly Spring and Mary Ellen Howard were sadly confused.
Judy shrugged. "This just doesn't mesh with our personal observations."
"That's right," Beth concurred. "It's amazing how well Bert Montoya has been doing since he moved there. He's improved in every way because Dorothea is such a good care provider."
"Well, if I were you," Spring advised in her throaty voice, "I wouldn't want my client staying in that woman's house."
"So where would you suggest Bert stay instead?" Judy wanted to know.
Spring replied, "The Gate House," [fictitious name], referring to a local room-and-board operation.
This hit a sour note with Judy and Beth. The manager of this establishment had neglected one tenant to the point of abuse, compelling them to file a report with Sacramento's ombudsman for senior care. They could hardly imagine a worse placement for Bert.
They were polite enough to stifle a scoff, but given their firsthand experiences, the VOA partners just couldn't take Spring and Howard's suspicions seriously. Still, since their colleagues were so obviously concerned, they promised not to place any more clients in Puente's boardinghouse and to ask Dorothea a few questions.
But Spring and Howard weren't about to stop with just one conversation with a couple of VOA employees. They were so profoundly distressed by the idea that Dorothea Johansson might be on the loose again that they decided to push the limits of their respective bureaucracies. And for an unlucky few, the unfolding dance of accusation and acquiescence played out like a Kafkaesque plot.
By chance, Polly Spring shortly learned that Peggy Nickerson was also making placements at Dorothea Puente's boardinghouse. "She's crazy as a hoot!" she exclaimed to Nickerson. "I remember something about her being in trouble with the law. If I were you, I'd avoid Puente in the future."
Nickerson, who didn't have the highest opinion of Polly Spring to begin with, reacted with
Similar Books
